


Fate Drags Us Along

by anawfulybigadventure



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders, Modern Era, Ogawa Chise AU, Owaranai Fukou ni Tsuite no Hanashi AU, POV First Person, being in 20s, like really i forgot they're from 90s so I made them have cell phones and shit, night club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anawfulybigadventure/pseuds/anawfulybigadventure
Summary: He appears in front of me, like I summoned him.Sirius and James and eight years after graduation from school. Eight years in which they hadn't talked or seen each other.And it's all my fault.





	Fate Drags Us Along

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a quote of Seneca. Story from me combining JK Rowling and Ogawa Chise.

Back in school, I stole a girl from my friend. We were considered best friends, so, yeah, it was a pretty shitty move. Needless to say, it sort of destroyed our friendship, but we were forced to interact, because we both were in the quidditch team.

He was a far better player than me, team captain in our last year, too. But I wasn’t that bad as to give him a reason to drop me out of the team. He, unlike me, was a decent person, so, whatever he felt for me, he remained just as my captain. 

He was a type of person everyone adored - quidditch captain, head boy. He and Lily Evans were picked to be head boy and girl of the school, and he’s crushed on her since forever, so it wasn’t that surprising when at long last they started dating. Their patronuses were matching, so it was pretty clear to anyone that they were perfect for each other.

She fitted him - smart, pretty, long-haired and petite. And they reigned as a king and a queen of the school.

It’s been eight years since that time. Somehow, after finishing school, I grew even taller, standing at 183 cm right now. 

I meet my coworkers in front of the club, they are not yet in line. 

It’s the birthday of one of them, so they look wild and high, and when they see me they holler, “Ooi, Sirius! Here!”, their voices wobbling, I nod at them, “Hey,” trying not to laugh at them outright.

“Oh, hey, Sirius,” - I hear Fiz, she’s as flirtatious as ever. You gotta give it to her - nothing more attractive than a woman that confident. Other girls are more shy and turn pink when I greet them. To be honest, there’s no wonder Fiz is the one to be that confident, she should be. Curves, and tight black dress, femme fatale with luxurious lips painted glossy red, and that’s just the facade, what’s inside is even better - quick wit, sharp tongue, fiery will. I know that my coworkers envy me, and begrudge me in that sphere. Well, what’s there to do?

“What are we waiting for?” - I go for a cig, but not for the blunt that Mike pushes in my hand - I hate the smell of the weed. Fiz lights it up for me, and I grin at her as a thanks. Her eyes light up, and it’s a nice moment that sends my belly down with tension.

“My quidditch team,” - Nadia says, she is the one whose birthday it is today.

“Hm?” - I make an interested noise while inhaling, and look at her, expecting her to explain. I think, her cheekbones get a little colour. But then, she is a bit shy.

“Didn’t know you were in a quidditch team,” - I say, raising the sentence a bit for it to be a question should Nadia want it to be. She hasn’t taken my previous bait.

“It’s not professional,” - she replies, but she doesn’t look at me.

Not professional. Well, no shit. Who would be stuck at our hell of a job if they could get a shot at being pro players in quidditch?

“We just meet every once in a while and play. Sometimes we…” - but her voice fades. It’s still is more than she’s ever said to me. I smile at her, to say that it’s not big deal. It’s her birthday, she should feel nice, and I’ve had no intention to be dragging her out of her shell.

“Should we go, stand in line?” - I say with more intentions to will the spotlight away from Nadia. Some of them nod, sure, eager to do something at this point of pointlessness. 

When we move, and shift, Mike tugs me under his hand, his elbow on my neck, his smell everywhere. So much for not smoking weed.

“Sirius, my man,” - he is barely comprehensible. I laugh.

“So, Mike, any cute girls in that quidditch team?” - or boys, but he doesn’t need to know that. Mike is homophobic and proud, not that I’m homosexual, but he is my boss, and I’m pretty sure he’ll find enough of biphobia in his bigoted arse to fire me on the spot no matter how much he claims to like me now.

“Oh you sly dog. You are a sly dog, Sirius,” - he wobbles some more, and tips even more of his weight on me. Fuck, I sure hope the evening isn’t going to end with him throwing up on me. - “Aren’t you happy with our little Fizzy here?”

He dirties her name with his mouth, and I would worry for her, if I hadn’t known for sure that she regularly boxes and could throw his ass with her manicured left hand. Plus, she is from one of twenty-eight sacred and Mike pisses boil on that shit, her father could own his entire family about fifty times. (Not that he, in the best traditions of twenty-eight families, ever would do a thing for Fiz).

It’s a mercy to the entire female community of our office that Fiz is the one who’s job it is to basically watch over Mike. She is kinda of a Superwoman.

After school, when I was left out there with no inheritance, disowned by my family, at first I tried to live without working. Well, that turned impossible, so I started looking for a job. Market sucked, and it was hard to find anything, and those months of starvation, coldness and regular begging from Regulus for more money that effectively destroyed my entire pride, ended up with me finding Mike. He is the worst person in the world, but he gets boners when he thinks about twenty-eight pure-bloods, so being Black, purest of the purest elite, he got me in. Who would’ve thought that my family wouldn’t be all that useless. 

Job is mind-numbing, we are the filial of the company that patents the magical inventions (read - we steal the work of creative people and earn money from it), and our job is to test the inventions for harmfulness. So, each day, it’s a new thing that comes into the office and you basically wave the wand at it and say same spells over and over again until some spell triggers some idiotic mechanism inside that covers entire office in sticky purple goo. Then you write the report (and somehow that paper-filling shit always ends up longer than the tests). I don’t know much, but it seems like a fairly stereotypical office job, making me yet another body in the super-organism of office planktons. One time, I would’ve preferred anything, including torturous death, to that title, but you live long enough to become your villain and all that.

Anyhow, after those terrible months of living in my car, on ramen, this life feels like a chocolate box, pay is unreasonable, even with me giving out half of my pay to homeless shelters, there’s still enough to live on like I used to live as a Black heir, so that’s what I do. 

If I were to dig deeper, and living alone, there isn’t anything else to do but to scratch my mental zits, my emotions can be summarized by two feelings: 1) it is nice to know that there is nothing else that I’ll need to do with my life, no great effort needed no more, and 2) it is most revolting to have the knowledge that this is what the rest of my life looks like.

A nightclub and a company seem to be exactly what I need. Life should be enjoyed, when it can be. I really hope there will be someone to go back home with in that quidditch team, it is harder for me to find reasons not to give in to Fiz’ pulls. 

It’s gonna be awkward, I know it. Fiz, even if she tries to act all nonchalant, is actually a very serious person who invests her time, and I know for sure that I cannot be in serious relationships, so that’s bound to end well. And my workplace is only made tolerable by her. 

Fiz turns back, probably sensing that we talk of her, and Mike begins his usual preachings: 

“You know, miss Fizzy, Sirius isn’t a good boy for you, no, he isn’t,” - which is probably true. She smiles tensely, as we all can do. A smile for the boss is universal across the globe - you’ve got to fit in your desire for him to combust on the spot, while appearing to be his well-behaved, polite bitch. How all the bosses aren’t seeing through that is hard to understand, but it’s in my theory that power corrupts the brain the way an acid goes through the metal - there are no connections inside that are analyzing facial structures.

“Sirius, Sirius, is the man who’s never going to be serious,” - he laughs, and I laugh quite good-heartedly, he’s got no idea, truly, just how pathetic he is. When was the last time I heard that joke? It must’ve been before Hogwarts. What would James say to that? 

And he appears in front of me, like I summoned him. 

I flinch from Mike as if electrocuted. To see James for the first time in forever, and, of course, it were to happen like that. He doesn’t even look real, I think this must be some vision of him brought by Mike’s potent drugs - he is tall, distant, gorgeous. He is different enough to know he isn’t imagined by me. 

I hold to my cigarette like to a lifeline.  

“James?” - I ask, stupefied. 

“You two know each other?” - Fiz and Nadia ask at the same time. 

“Nope, first time seeing him,” - James turns. Ouch.

“Don’t joke like that,” - I pout to hide the real pinch of hurt. - “It must take longer than eight years to forget a friendship like ours.”

“How dare you even talk to me?” - he says, the loath in his voice seems to be real.

“Scary,” - ha, I’ve always known that James is too just to forgive me that easily. He isn’t a person who forgets the betrayals. - “Still pouty of the things done?”

Never thought I would meet him in a place like that. I moved to London in some vague hopes of being lost in the big city, last I heard of James, he was in Scotland. Wizarding world is too small of a place.

Last year of school, I stole his girlfriend. When James learned, he actually came to me to talk instead of to punch me.

He looked tearful, but at this point, there were little things that could touch me, and it wasn’t hard to play the role of the villain in his story to the bitter end.

He asked me why did I do it.

“Do you like her, too?”

I thought later on, when I turned that talk over and over in my head, that should I have answered yes to that question, James could’ve forgiven me.

He was stubborn in his desire to find a redemption for me. But at least I didn’t lie.

“Not really…”

It was annoying to learn that he got a girlfriend. Nothing more.

“People like you, who can’t understand what other people feel, will never be happy,” - he said, and that seemed to be more of a curse, what’s with my life after that.

I broke up with Lily quick after that, and didn’t wait til the final match to quit the quidditch team, our trainings were unbearable anyhow. My rippling with Moony and Wormy were only a proof of something I knew long ago - they were James’ friends, not mine. And at last, I also lost the map to Flinch, so there were truly nothing connecting me to James. Graduation came mercifully quick.

I haven’t seen him ever since.

As we enter the club, we get the booth in a good relatively quiet spot, barely all fitting inside. But some people instantly go to dance, and some go to take care of the drinks. James and I stay at the booth. Us and all other people between us. 

“Where are you working, James?” - Lola asks him. She is blonde and petite. Might be his type.

“Construction,” - he downs the beer somebody settles on our table. I hear him saying to Nadia, but think I might be mistaken: “Is Sirius the really pretty one?”

It’s hard to read his face, what’s with the deep blue light making space almost dark. He looks blank.

“Sirius, you aren’t drinking?” - Mike asks me.

“I’m driving,” - I thank Fiz with a peck on a cheek for getting me a juice.

“Next time-“ - someone says, and I reply quickly, “Absolutely.”

It is easy to note the differences when you haven’t seen someone for a long time. I thought we were mature when we were graduating, but looking at James right now, it appears foolish. He looks more mature, years became him, his face grew on him. Wild hair, as ever, hazel eyes and the specks, but that’s all that I know as well as myself.

“Anyone want something else?” - he settles into the role of care-taker easily. Ever the perfect leader. 

We look to be approximately same height, I had good 8 cm on him last time I’ve seen him. Well, it’s not that surprising, boys still grow after 17. He couldn’t stay same as eight years ago, it’s expected.

“Do you have a girlfriend, James?” - Mike asks him. I don’t know what’s his deal. He probably wants to know if James will be a competition for him. The fact that one hundred out of one hundred of girls would pick James over Mike in any scenario is lost on poor Mike.

“No,” - I got to give it to him - he’s straightforward as ever.

“No way~ What girls do you like then?” - someone flirts with him. I don’t know if that type of game works with him.

“Honest ones,” - he downs a drink in front of him. 

I can’t hide my smile, and look at him straight. 

I wonder if it’s me who soiled his evening, or if it’s the new James in front of me. Eight years is enough to change a person. Even if he isn’t quite the class clown now, he still has the same thing he’s had even when we were kids - the power, and everyone just circles around it, attracted by the force more palpable than gravity. 

He eats the fried shrimp, and a bit of the sauce stays on his cheek.

And then he looks at Nadia, opposite of him, and asks loudly,

“Why are still here? Didn’t you want to dance?” - he chastises her, loudly.

“Wha-,” - Nadia hides and stutters, - “No, it’s just-“

James chews fast and finishes his drink in two gulps, his adam's apple moving in the blue light. 

“Let’s go,” - he thrusts his hand towards her, - “it’s your birthday, there’s no need to be shy about your desires.”

And she turns red, but takes his hand, and I see something familiar in her star-struck look. Yeah, it feels amazing to have someone that powerful to be focusing solely on you. It does wonders to your ego. 

I get myself a shrimp to chew on. The sauce isn’t too bad, spicy. Just what James likes. 

Nadia can move, I give it to her, who would’ve thought? And he can as well, but that’s nothing new. He looks comfortable in his bones, comfortable in his sport’s clothing. 

Nadia says something to him, but the music must be really loud on the dance floor, because James bends closer to her, puts his ear close to her. 

“You think they’ll be going home together?” - Fiz asks of me, closer than I expected her to be.  

I say nothing. 

“Who would’ve thought,” - she says musingly. That’s what I love about Fiz. I can tell what she is implying, and I love her for saying what I’m thinking. She can be a bit of a bitch, but it’s more of a power move than an embittered one. 

Even far from them, I see James relaxing, his face is less stoic now, he looks to be enjoying whatever he and Nadia are doing there.

I see them moving to the bar, and can tell that they want to talk away from the crowd. Nadia is flushed after dancing and crowd, but also, and I know it for sure, from uninterrupted stream of James’ attention.

Fiz and I move to the dance floor, and it’s pretty great out there, at this late hour the crowd is so thick, you’ve got no choice but to be plastered on all sides by people, creating collective spasming super-organism - just like I like it, no need to be pretending to know how to dance, just be pushed and pulled by people on all sides. We get sweaty, and giggly, but Fiz starts to feel bad, so I get her to sit on my shoulders and we move past the sea of crowd out to the shore.

She goes to the bathroom, and I start looking for James. Last I seen him, he and Nadia were moving towards the booth, but he isn’t there. I hope he isn’t gone yet, Nadia looks flushed and giddy enough for her to hope they go home together. I go to the bathroom. 

I splash my face with cold water, note that my outfit doesn’t look ruined with the people or sweat, it was a smart choice to go with dark clothing.

I hear typical late-night big-city sounds, and it’s ridiculous and abnormal, and disgusting, but I can tell it’s him by the sounds.

He didn’t even have the strength to close the door behind him.

“Why drink, if you can’t?” - If I were a better person I would leave him be, I must be the last person he wants to see right now. But I stay, unashamed. James is on his knees, face paled. He has enough strength to glower at me, so it’s not like he’s dying, the way it sounded from the outside.

He shoulders past me to the sink. I follow like the obedient dog I am.

“What you need?” - but it’s him who barks.

“Nothing, just seeking a quiet place,” - he glares at me. Ha, I want to laugh. Still can tell easily when I lie, don’t you, James?

“Tired of girls’ attention most like,” - he spits.

“That must be it,” - I agree amicably.

“You are still same as you were in school. Nothing changed,” - he dries himself with the paper towels. 

“That must be right,” - I reply. He moves out of the bathroom, away from me, not saying anything. My implication must be too heavily buried. - “Want to see if I’m still capable of playing our old game, James?”

He looks at me, lost at first, so I say, high with his gaze at me, finally, for the first time this evening, “I think Nadia-“

And, of course, I don’t have the time to finish before James pushes me to the wall.

“Shut it, will you? Or do you want me to help?” - so I still don’t need to be spelling anything to him. 

There was always something uncivilized about James. Not in terms of his mental abilities, as much as in terms of his entire being. If most people were be dogs, domesticated, James would surely be the wolf, the savage one. It’s in everything with him - the wildness. He moves like a big cat, flexible, sure of his power to kill, and he watches the world like he is part of the nature, not of the educated people, of civilization. He isn’t part of pretty, cute nature, but part of what the nature really is - deathly. I remember seeing the tiger for the first time and looking into those amber ancient eyes, feeling the shiver, because I knew that I was in front of the God. Not the cuddly, ever-listening, catering-to-each-wish fat white dude most people pray to, but something older, something apart of time. Looking into James’ eyes when he gets angry, and angry at me, is like watching into the eyes of tiger who is ready to attack its prey. 

My knees get weak, and I hold to James, but that feels like cheating, and even his material burn me. I can’t do it anymore. I am forbidden. 

But I still do.

I look at him, he’s so close to me now. But. He might as well been on the other side of the country.

“What’s your height now?” - I ask, shoving off all my emotions.

“182,” - he blurts the answer as if he didn’t expect himself to do it. And then he seems to regain himself, - “What’s that about?”

“Woow, you grew like 12 cm~” 

“It took me some time,” - he answers honestly. Primly. We’re British even when we’re in the middle of the fight. Maybe, we’ll even have tea in a close moment.

“But I still won, I’m one centimeter taller, that’s pleasant,” - he seems to have forgotten about still pining me to the wall. I’m not going to be the one to complain.

“Tsk, I always lose to you,” - he looks away from me.

“But… You’ve always dreamed of growing tall. I’m glad it happened,” - the skin on his knuckles is tight. Bones on his hands show more, I thought there was no baby fat to lose at seventeen, but it appears we might as well been babies when we were graduating.

He looks at me, disbelievingly. Of what, I wonder. That I would talk nicely to him, or that I would dare to talk to him at all.

“Whenever I see your pretty face, I want to smash it,” - he frees me, fight gone from him.

What should I answer to that?

_Feel free_.

“Don’t think you won! I can still grow!” - he puffs like an annoyed child as he leaves the bathroom.

I feel laughter ripping from inside me. Oh, Jamie.

I wonder what he’s been through in those years.

Place where he pushed me pulses with pain, I can feel a bruise forming. Never anything half-done with James. 

“Oww,” - I say meekly, as I at last let my posture fall.

I became a terrible person in those years. And he is still a good one. Life is weird. 

 

* * *

 

“Siriuuuuus, you aren’t going with us?” - my coworkers are going to continue the night in the bowling park nearby.

“Oh, no,” - I shake my head, and smile. - “I’m done for today. But you guys enjoy yourselves.” 

I note Nadia bending over a dark figure a little away from the crowd. I should probably wish her goodnight.

“James, are you alright? I’m gonna go bring you water.” 

I hasten my steps, this is ridiculous, and I can’t fight against it.

“Don’t, I’m good,” - he braves through.

I touch Nadia’s shoulder. There was something I was going to tell her, but instead I say: “Look at this drunkard. I’m on a car, I’ll get him home.” 

“I’ll help,” - I don’t know if she means that she’ll help get him into my car, or if she wants to go to his house to take care of him, but she isn’t going to get anything.

“Hm?..” - I look at her, for the first time in a long time, really look at her. She is wearing pale oversized sweater, her legs could be sticks. All she has is her fragility, - “What’s your height?”

“Huh?… Height? 152 cm,” - she answers, dumbfounded. 

“Cute and petite,” - I grin. - “What’s you gonna do with that height? Me alone is enough.”

I get under James’ hand, lifting him up, he is heavy, his feet are barely holding him. 

“Put your weight on me, but you gotta walk, James.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” - he says, all down under. He is not even aware of his surroundings.

“So what? No need to hold it all in.”

His fingertips slip under my shirt, the touch so weak it is tender. I hold on to his hand. Another one I wrap around him. He is heavy.

We make way for the public bathroom, I hold him through it, and then he is able to move towards my car with my help. When I get him inside, he slumps on the seat, completely drowned under the spell. 

“I’ll go buy some hungover medicine. Wait here,” - I say, not hoping that he’d hear me. 

“So embarrassing…” - he mumbles in reply. It’s hard to say if he’s talking to me or just out, if he’s even aware of me. - “You’re prettier than ever, I’ll never win against you…” 

That was directed to me, right?

James gains some colour into him, and turns his face away from me, covering it with his hands.

“Well… Thanks, I guess.”

I make my way fast, not wanting for James to wake and find himself in a strange place.

James is asleep when I come back. I realize just now that I don’t know his address. It seems cruel to be waking him up now. So I lower his seat back, he is so deep, he doesn’t even move.

I decide against revving the car. My apartment is on seventh floor, and the elevator doesn’t work, so my place isn’t happening either. I lower my seat, too, it’s not like I haven’t slept in this car before. 

James moans from pain, or from my movement.

Seizing the chance, I persuade him into taking medicine, he doesn’t understand anything, but when I move the bottle towards his lips, somehow he manages to drink up.

“James, water,” - I say to him, but he moans and turns away from me. - “C’mon, you’ll feel better,” I try pushing the bottle onto him, but he can’t drink that much in his position and the water ends all around his mouth instead of inside.

I feel thirsty. My mouth salivates.

I drink up, downing the bottle.

James moans more, he’s petulant like a child. And I can’t not do it, I lose last thread of my sanity, and I move close, close to him, right above him, so that my face is above his, and I drink the last bits of the water, and move closer to him. He opens his eyes, sensing my looming presence, and he seems to have understood me because he moves his hand and inserts it into my hair, his fingers threading through them, massaging my scalp, and gently pushing me closer, closing the gap.

His eyes are unfocused on me, and I think fondly, though it breaks my heart in two - You’re probably seeing a pretty girl, James, aren’t you? 

I push the water from my mouth into his, and he drinks it up, and stays inside my mouth, seeking more. I am torn between opening my mouth further, letting him seek whatever he wants there, and pushing into his hand that is still in my hair. He loses it, and falls asleep right there, right beneath me, his mouth goes slack, it moves away from me - mere milimeters, but impossibly away, and I grab his hand in my hair, feeling it slacking away, too, I grab it and hold it to my head, and push into it with all power, shaking up. His wrist is there, in my grasp, skin naked right next to me, he is warm, almost hot, as he usually is.

And I tear up, desperate for the last moment to be real, desperate for James. As I always had been.

I think of what I could do, he is in front of me, of everything I’ve ever dreamt of doing with him, I want to lick that spot of naked wrist of his hand, it would be enough for me, it would be more than anything I’ve ever dared to do. 

But I get hard, and I force myself to push away from him, disgusted with me.

My dick pushes, almost leaks, as my mind bombards me with the pictures that once haunted me into madness - of James’ wrists, of James heels digging into my back as we spend time in the Gryffindor tower, and I would get hard, from the strength of his touch, of James’ naked back as we were changing into quidditch uniforms, of James’ hot breath those nights he would sneak into my bed to talk, and we would talk all night long, of James’ nose tenderly poking my cheek twice when we were eating breakfast in the Great Hall. I wanted to lick each part of his body. 

I wanted to worship him, that’s all. 

And next comes the picture of James’ dick, he was so unashamed in the shower, forcing me to get mine to hardness so that we could compare, and it wasn’t that hard to do that when James was right there, naked in the steamed room, flicking his hand hardly, palming his balls and rubbing the skin around his dick, hard. I was getting hard from the air alone that surrounded James. What was I to say then? I had to place a hand over my mouth to keep me from blurting things out - I wish you weren’t thinking of Lily Evans, I wish to blow-job you so much, I fall asleep with my fingers down my throat, wishing it was you, just to have you inside, just to hold you. 

I turn away from James, and lower my pants, freeing my dick away, and within a couple of flicks of hands up and down, two fingers down to hold my balls, like I know James does it, and then, only wanting for it to end quick, move one finger even lower, and fuck myself on it, imagining it is James pounding into me. For a second, it is so real, realer than it’s been in years, I want to thank somebody for it - in my mind James moves with his wildness, madness and power. I cum quickly, immediately disgusted riding down. 

He isn’t awake, and it’s hard to say that relief from that discovery is that much larger than another emotion.

I wipe myself off, and slag off on my seat, drowsy after orgasm. James is soft under an angled street light. I hope he is dreaming of something good and nice.

Maybe about a pretty petite girl, someone perfect for him.

 

* * *

 

His phone rings loudly. He seeks it around the space without opening his eyes, muttering, _my phone, where’s it…_

He pushes the button and presses it to his ear. I can hear the other line - “James, it’s Nadia…”

“Oh, hey, Nadia,” - he makes his voice sound awake, but his eyes are still closed, and he sits up.

“Do you feel better? I was worried for, so I called.”

“Yeah. I slept, and now feel much better,” - he wipes his eyes, slacking down. I’m an idiot for being offended that he doesn’t look at me.

“That’s good!”

James looks like he’s about to fall asleep again. Still not a morning person, Jamie?

“Well… Can I call you later then?” - this phrase of Nadia’s is hard to hear, but I strain myself for it. Maybe even use a quick spell enlarging my ears, no harm there. 

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay then! I’ll call you later!” 

I think that I’ve never heard Nadia, of all people, being like that, but then who am I to judge the effect of sheer magic of James.

“Mmm…” - he mumbles in agreement.

And then he just stares into nothingness, slacks, awake but only because the eyes are opened.

“You should be a little more bold,” - I advise him. - “Show some initiative and you can get closer.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” - he answers slowly, and then jerks into remembering just how much he despises me. - “Not your business, anyway.”

He turns to leave the car. I’m about to speak, but he cuts me off, like he still can read my mind.

“I troubled you enough for the day, I’ll go home alone.”

Words kinder, but the tone still hostile. I think James knows that I want to drive him home, and does this in spite. Fuck the bastard, it works.

“Afraid?”

And that gets him to face me.

And angry all at once.

“Who’s afraid?!”

He leaves the car, and then, as he stands to slam the door in my face, he says, “You ruined me!”

“That’s a coincidence. You ruined me, too,” - I smile back at him.

I see him ready to pick a fight - he wants to say he didn’t do anything wrong, and he hasn’t, but I close the door in his face, wishing him a safe trip back home.

And he leaves, while I sink further and further down on my seat, my composure down.

He was very tender with me, hard to believe that a boy like him could be, but he was. And there was such power in having somebody like James, an obvious king of everything to make such an exception for me.

“Hey, Sirius,” - he wiped my forehead, and got into my bed in the hospital, while I told him to go - the feast was underway, but he told me he’d like to stay, asking in such way, as if it was me who was inconvenienced, as if it was my choice whether or not to bring him pleasure, and not the other way around.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from him, to me he seemed brighter than anything else. And still seems.

He is a genuinely good person, full of good-heartedness. His smile is open and honest, I could never look away. 

But he liked a girl - petite and cute. With long hair, wearing a dress.

And I was 10 cm taller than him. It was completely impossible.

But even so, I didn’t want anyone to get him. So I stole his girl.

 

* * *

 

Fiz answers the phone more to stop the annoying thrill of it, and stays in bed, under her covers.

Her beau of the night doesn’t even stir.

“Hey, you asleep?”

“Sirius,” - she mumbles, something in his voice awakens her, - “what is it? Something’s wrong?”

“Do you know Nadia’s phone?”

“What?.. are you?” - she whispers, not wanting to leave the bed. And then she tries to think, even though it is so hard, - “Nadia?..”

He laughs, brokenly. She tries to think to the night before, she was so sure… Sirius looked at this James like a man famished. And she is sure Nadia and James left together. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think, I have it somewhere…” - she says, turning on her professionalism.

Sirius laughs a bit more.

“How about we meet today?” - she says, man next to her looks at her, incredulous, awake. Hot. Muggle.

She needs to get away from here.

 

* * *

 

“Listen,” - I say when she’s done telling me of her night, - “did you ever do anal? Do you reckon that hurts much?” 

“A lot depends on the size.”

“Let’s say the size is a monster.”

Fiz teases me, and I find inside himself enough composure to answer the teasings.

But as I think more and more about the night, I feel it - the last hope was burned, and it feels like a fitting enough punishment for me. But it doesn’t make the pain bearable.

_I’m sorry. There’s been a lot I went through these years, but this ache in my heart still tortures me._


End file.
